


Not One Cent

by TheSilverPhoenix



Series: Historical Hetalia Week 2021 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1500 - 1800, American History, Gen, Historical Hetalia, International Relations, Nyotalia, XYZ Affair, historical hetalia week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverPhoenix/pseuds/TheSilverPhoenix
Summary: Dealing with France should've been easy. America should've known better.
Series: Historical Hetalia Week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178408
Kudos: 7
Collections: Historical Hetalia Week (February 2021)





	Not One Cent

**Author's Note:**

> “Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute.” - Senator Robert Harper, June 18, 1798

_October 1797_

America tried to shake the feeling that she was going to be sick. Yet, her stomach still churned in avid protest and nausea still built up in her chest no matter how hard she tried to relieve it. She didn’t know if it was the tossing of the ship beneath her or the distance between her and her land, maybe a mixture of both. Such a long trip had slowly worn her down and the longer the time and distance grew the more irritated and exposed she felt. She hated the feeling.

Heavy footfalls snapped her out of her thoughts and she tried her best to push the nausea down. Nations were away from home all of the time and she was independent now. She would have to deal with it and prove she was worthy of what she’d fought so hard for, whether she liked it or not.

“Alright there?” Elbridge Gerry asked her as he finished descending the stairs, a hint of concern in his voice.

America didn’t know whether she should answer honestly or not. If she did, it might put Gerry in a sense of unease; if she didn’t, though, she could lose the chance to air her grievances in private with one of the few Americans she had access to.

“Yes,” she finally answered, shooting him a shaky smile in hopes that it would give him some sort of comfort. “I’m just not used to being this far away from home.”

Gerry gave her a soft nod in understanding, seeming to acknowledge much more than she had said. “Hopefully our coming all this way won’t be for naught, but I don’t think Mr. Adams would’ve asked you to travel this far had he not believed you’d be of some use.”

“A year ago, I would’ve thought I could’ve been,” America told him, running her fingers through her shortened hair. It was still weird, even after two decades, “but I won’t pretend to know what France’s motivations are, or what she hopes to achieve by any of this. I was fooled into thinking our alliance meant something and now I’m not sure what to think.”

She didn’t really know how to put what she was feeling into words, or if she should put them into words at all. She had thought France had been her friend, but it was now distinctly clear to her that nations didn’t have _friends_. They had allies, who were to be gained and tossed depending on their usefulness. And the moment America had refused to interfere in France’s war against England, a war in which she was economically and militarily unprepared for, a war that America knew would be her end, France had turned on her. Jay’s Treaty had simply been the last straw and France hadn’t hesitated to set the haybale on fire.

It was all just France’s thinly veiled attempt to replace England’s rule in her country with her own and America would not have it. She’d given up too much, sacrificed too much, just to become a pawn of Europe.

“We will sort this all out,” Gerry assured her. “We have made peace with Britain, so the hard part is done.”

America wanted to believe him. She really did.

-

America almost felt a sense of whiplash as she sat in the ornate, overly lavish room. It was far more plush and luxurious than anything she’d ever seen back home and she almost had to wonder if each building in Paris was like this. It was over the top, in her opinion, and a waste of money and resources, but something in her couldn’t help but admire it all.

Yet, it was all spoiled by France herself.

The other country sat across the table from her, tucked in next to her three negotiators - Jean-Conrad Hottinguer, Pierre Bellamy, and Lucien Hauteval - and sporting an infuriatingly smug smile. The woman exuded the confidence of a cat who had cornered a mouse, like she already knew she’d won and their presence here was simply a confirmation of that. It was a feeling that made America prickle up. The only reason America hadn’t lashed out was thanks to the three men on her side of the table - Elbridge Gerry, Charles Pinckney, and John Marshall.

The men weren’t actually preventing her from doing anything, but it certainly helped to know that she wasn’t the only one who thought France’s demands were outrageous.

“Our terms are simple,” one of the negotiators said when the Americans remained silent, “and fair.”

“Fair?” John Marshall said incredulously beside her. The man gave a harsh laugh. “Fair? A fifty thousand pound bribe on top of a loan is hardly what I would call fair, gentlemen.”

France’s foreign minister - Charles Talleyrand - wouldn’t officially receive any of them until they’d paid the ‘personal payment’ and agreed to the loan. No meeting with Talleyrand meant France would continue to seize her trading ships, which could potentially lead to war. Yet, conceding to them meant breaking her commitment to neutrality and risking getting dragged further into financial debt and European affairs, which could weaken and expose her to foreign influence.

“This is how it is done,” France spoke up, pinning America down with a stare and not bothering to even glance at her representatives. America was beginning to understand why England hated the other woman so much because she desperately wanted to lunge across the table and throttle her just to wipe the smug look off of her face. Oh how much she was learning. “You wanted to play with the big kids, so here we are.”

America clicked her tongue in a thinly veiled sign of irritation and weighed her options. She knew France was playing her. The other nation was depending on the fact that she was inexperienced and young in hopes of preying on her and making her feel inconsequential and powerless enough to manipulate her and her people into submission. America shoved down the growl that built in her throat.

She valued her morals and her freedom far more than she valued her relationship with France. America had already proven what kind of bridges she’d been willing to burn for her freedom and security and France seemed to think that she wouldn’t do the same here.

“ _Je pense qu'ils sont trop stupides pour comprendre_ ,” America heard one of the Frenchmen whisper in France’s ear just a little too loudly. She didn’t know if the man assumed that none of them spoke French or if the insult was intentional, but it was unacceptable either way.

“This might be the way you in Europe conduct business,” Marshall snapped, “but I will not allow my country to sink so low. Nor will I allow this commission to be toyed with by men whose idea of civilized power is bribery and corruption.”

While two of the Frenchmen sputtered, the third simply scoffed. “You act as though you have some sort of choice -”

“There is always a choice,” America cut in. She returned France’s stare, mimicking the unwavering look the other country was giving her, “and you seem to think that you are more important to us than you actually are.”

The smug, self-satisfied look on France’s face faded into fury and offense. America would not bow. Not to England, and certainly not to France. And she wasn’t going to allow France to undermine her neutrality and manipulate her economy from her high, European pedestal just so she could get a petty shot at England.

She didn’t want war, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to be stepped over. America had to stand up for herself because there wasn’t anyone else who was going to do it.

“Why you insolent, insignificant little -”

“I believe it is time we take our leave,” Marshall finally said calmly, standing from his place at the table. Gerry and Pinckney wordlessly followed behind him, a silent show of agreement between the three of them. America watched France carefully as she moved to follow, but was pulled away quicker by the gentle guiding pull of Marshall. “Come along, Amelia. We have no friends here.”

For some reason, his words twisted at her heart. Perhaps there’d been some small semblance of hope in her that they could’ve reached a resolution.

“You are sure to reconsider,” one of the negotiators promised them, “and when you do -”

"No, no,” Pinckney yelled at him as they exited the room and slipped into the hallway, “not a sixpence!"

**Author's Note:**

> Title Origin: From the phrase “Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute” said by Senator Robert Harper at an honorary dinner for John Marshall on June 18th, 1798. The phrase was also said to be Charles Pinckney’s response to the French demands before he later clarified that he said “Not a sixpence!”
> 
> Historical Context: In 1797, President John Adams sent an American convoy to the newly established Republic of France to negotiate with France’s foreign minister, Charles de Talleyrand. Earlier, in 1794, America had signed Jay’s Treaty with the British, which was viewed by the French as a violation of their own treaty with the Americans. As a result, France began seizing American merchant ships bound for Britain. During the ‘negotiations’, the American diplomats were met with three gentlemen (X, Y, and Z) who informed them that they would have to pay a hefty bribe and a loan in order to speak with Talleyrand. Instead, the Americans refused and began building the US Navy in preparation for war. Hostilities were put to rest in 1800, when another commission met with the newly made dictator, Napoleon Boneparte, and an agreement was reached. [SOURCE](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/XYZ_Affair)


End file.
